


subtle power

by somebraveapollo



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 09:52:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somebraveapollo/pseuds/somebraveapollo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scenes from a Superhero AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	subtle power

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Piper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piper/gifts).



> Dear recipient - I hope this fic will work for you! Thank you for your prompts and I hope you're having an excellent Yule-time. ♥

Morgan, who worked at their diner, was reliably grumpy on Monday mornings. When he greeted them with a wide smile and gratis pancakes, Abbie automatically looked for signs of demonic possession. She didn’t see any but noticed he was blushing.

“Did you do something?” she asked, sitting down across from Crane.

“Mmm?” He didn’t look up from his morning crosswords but raised an eyebrow.

“Did you charm Morgan?”

“Not intentionally,” he grinned and Abbie snorted. “We’ve had no intimate conversations, if that is what you mean.”

“He’s acting weird. Don’t eat anything for now. We might need to call reinforcements.” Crane nodded and put his newspaper down warily as Morgan approached them.

“Can I get your autographs?” he asked, clutching a notebook.

“Sure,” Abbie smiled widely and insincerely. “Leave it here.”

When Morgan left, Abbie and Crane shared a look.

“Have your read your newspaper yet?” Abbie asked.

Crane shook his head. “I try to avoid any ‘breaking news’ before I’ve had my coffee.”

He handed her the paper, and Abbie flipped it over decisively. Then she groaned.

“Yeah. We’re on the front page. _Superheroes of Sleepy Hollow_.”

There was a grainy photograph of them helping people out of the church. The demons that had stood behind them weren't on the picture. Abbie tossed Crane the paper and buried her face in her hands.

“Sleepy Hollow, population 144,000 – a town that no longer lives up to its name,” he read. “A bizarre and unexplained wave of violent crimea is causing citizens to fear for their lives. But yesterday’s church fire - and the resulting rescue - brought an unexpected and entirely welcome change.”

Abbie looked up. “Please just tell me if they published our names.”

Crane’s hair fell into his face as he scanned the article. She would have to buy him some hair clips. “‘Sources close to the duo suggest their names are Crane and Lieutenant.’ Close sources?”

“Someone overheard us talking.”

“I'm not too happy with the avian pseudonym - but it is reassuring they aren't concerning themselves with our personal lives.”

“Hah. Our personal lives will be tomorrow’s headlines. We have to do something about this.” She took a deep gulp of the coffee. “Irving's going to kill me.”

“Why? I don’t entirely understand your agitation.”

“We became _celebrities_. Journalists are going to tail us and take pictures. We won’t be able to get anything done. They're probably down at the precinct hounding them for information about us right now - and I really don't want them looking into your cover story. Or connecting it with old articles about me. Or - God, what if they start sniffing after Jenny? I'll have to call her.” She gripped her phone but didn't dial. "It''ll also mess with all our investigations. And might, you know, reveal the apocalypse."

“And there is no way to stop this - this _deluge_?”

“I don't know. Proper superheroes put on masks and have press conferences. Promise to cooperate with the press - they give mission statements and regularly reveal their missions to the public. Lots of them keep blogs. This usually keeps the press from blowing their covers or endangering missions"

Crane considered it, digging in to the free pancakes.

"This is an odd custom. In my day it was thought heroes were considered to be akin to saints. They were blessed by God with great abilities or knowledge. They were honest, great men - and I would assume women as well - who were admired from a distance." 

"Yeah. And how many of them abused their powers?"

"They didn't - " He stopped. "I see." 

"I am all for public accountability for superheroes. But I also don't think I'd be considered one of them. " 

Quickly he brushed his hands over her knuckles. "We both keep ending up in situations we do not expect," he said, "and I trust you to lead us through this with your usual wisdom."

Abbie signed the pushed her uneaten breakfast to Crane. “I have to make some calls.”

* * *

Jenny had ten pages left of her Stephen King book when her doorbell rang. It was Abbie, radiating irritation and trying to look inconspicuous.

“Oh my god!” Jenny smirked. “A real superhero! Let me get my camera.”

Enjoying the resulting glare, she let Abbie in and locked the door.

Her current dwelling was low on furniture, so she led Abbie to her bed and sat beside her, cross-legged.

“So where’s The Crane?”

“I left him with Irving. They’re working on Crane’s identity - and trying to figure out if we’ll end the world early if we make a press statement.”

“Witnesses are basically prophets,” Jenny pointed out. “Maybe this is you being Called to Testify.”

“Sure.” Abbie slumped back. “But testify to what? If we announce the world is going to end - well, we’ll get called freaks and liars, sure, but eventually someone is going to take us seriously and probably go hurt a bunch of people for being ‘sinners’.”

Jenny frowned and pressed her back against the wall.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about that.”

“It’s possible we can stop the apocalypse,” Abbie said, “but there’s no way we can stop the damage caused by fear.” 

“So you’re going to lie?”

“Or just bend the truth.” Jenny raised her eyebrows. “Okay. Bend it a lot.” 

“You can just be regular superheroes. Protecting and serving and shit. No superpowers or destinies.”

“We don’t _have_ superpowers. Except good timing, I guess.”

Jenny shrugged. “That’s all the power you need. I think most superheroes just have good tech or good training. I met a guy who could fly though, and a pair of telekinetics.”

“Oh.” Abbie’s mouth thinned. Jenny thought it was annoyance - Abbie didn’t like being reminded of Jenny’s past she didn’t know about. There was a strange pause and Abbie kept looking at the ceiling. Maybe it was guilt? Either way, Jenny wasn’t going to smooth it out for her.

“Did you meet any other superheroes?” Abbie asked at last, her voice only a little strained.

“Yeah, sure. And supervillains. It turns out both groups are interested in ancient magical artefacts.”

Abbie nodded, relaxed a little. “Are they like on tv?”

“The best of them never make it to tv. Same goes for the villains. They just do their thing quietly. Save people, rob them or kill them. Sometimes all at the same time.”

“Did you meet any here? In Sleepy Hollow? Crane and I can’t really be the first.”

“Yeah. There was a group of teenagers - they moved to the City for college and more exciting crime. And there was a couple - a schoolteacher and a ballerina, they only went after domestic abusers. They gathered evidence, reinforced restraining orders. Nothing really newsworthy."

“What happened with them?”

“I don't know. I was - absent, for a while, and when I came back, they were gone.” Jenny closed her eyes briefly. It was probably better she didn't know. Heroes like that - without powers or resources - didn't usually have happy endings.

Abbie's voice sounded thoughtful. "Did either of them wear a green hoodie?"

“What?” Jenny startled.

“A few years ago, there was a case that everyone kept talking about. A figure in a green hoodie - a woman or a skinny man - stopped a band of child traffickers. We never saw her again but the damage she did - or he - definitely made the force think it was a superhero.”

Her closet was safely closed, and Jenny just smiled and said, "it could have been them."

Which was not a lie at all.

The silence then wasn't uncomfortable and somehow their shoulders touched.

* * *

Abbie changed, last-minute, into an emerald dress she’d only ever worn to one office party. It was slightly fancier than what she originally planned, but she figured she didn’t have too many special occasions to look forward to for a while. She was going without guns for once, trusting that Irving would supply her if something went wrong.

Crane tilted his head and grinned when he saw her and she automatically fixed her posture and grinned back.

Then she realised he was still in the blue bathrobe she’d bought him.

“Crane, we have to leave in fifteen minutes. Is there a problem?”

He looked away and mumbled, “I find modern menswear baffling,” in a way that wasn’t very convincing.

“Crane?”

“Perhaps I should just wear my uniform, Miss Mills.”

She sat down beside him, and he met her gaze.

“Okay,” she said, a gentle question.

They had agreed they would both be going out of uniform, to draw attention away from her job and his origins. They’d picked out Crane’s grey suit together, and from what she’d seen in the store it was a _very_ good fit.

“I apologise for disrupting our arrangement,” he said.

“It’s okay,” Abbie said. “I just don’t want you freaking out in the middle of the interview.”

“That would be unfortunate,” he agreed. “All those rehearsals going to waste.”

“You are a horrible liar,” Abbie pointed out. “And you’ll be telling way more lies than I will.”

They kept Crane’s fictional personal history bland, and hoped to pass him off as nothing more than an eccentric academic.

Crane’s mouth twitched. “Perhaps I should appear in that ‘span-dex’ suit after all. It should draw attention from any inconsistencies in my answers.”

Abbie snorted and let the silence fall.

Hesitantly, he bundled up the suit and left into the bathroom.

“Remember how to put it on?” Abbie asked.

“It is not particularly complicated,” he called.

“I thought it was ‘baffling’. “

He didn’t answer. They were going to be late, Abbie thought, and didn’t care. There couldn’t be a press conference without them. And it might make them more authentic – a pair of regular people who work for the police and accidentally keep doing good deeds in their downtime.

Crane looked a little rumpled when he came out of the bathroom. He had overdone the deodorant – he _really_ liked Axe for some reason – and chose to leave out the tie. Abbie smiled and took him by the arm, and wondered if they should let his hair down.

His coat stayed on the sofa, neatly folded.

“Remember,” she said, putting an extra gun in the car, along with emergency shoes. “If anything goes wrong, I’m going to say that everyone can be a hero and smile, and you quote something appropriate and we’ll just stay quiet until they change the topic.”

Crane nodded gravely, and quickly, passingly kissed her cheek as she ignited the car. She snorted and undid his ponytail.

They were ready to leave.

* * *

Macey looked less put-together than usual, sitting alone in the hospital hallway. Jenny sat beside her and handed her a cup of cocoa from the cafeteria.

“Where’s your mom?” she asked. 

“She had to go back to work. She’s going to pick me up when she’s done. I know dad’s okay, but I want to be here when he wakes up.”

Jenny nodded. Frank had been knocked out before the press conference started, no big damage. But the kid had never been involved in things like this before, and anyway she deserved an explanation.

“You know you saved them all, right?” Jenny asked.

“No, _you_ did,” Macey said firmly. “Thank you, Jenny.”

“I just showed up and shot people. You told me where to go.” 

Macey had called her, calm and apologetic, reporting that her dad had stopped texting her mid-conversation and the invited journalists had stopped tweeting. Jenny really didn’t think there was anything going on - it could have been a coincidence, or signal interference.

It turned out to be a mind-controlling zealot who tried to sacrifice Abbie to Satan on camera. 

“Is your sister okay?” Macey asked. “And Mr. Crane?”

“Yeah, they’ll be fine. Abbie lost a lot of blood. He’s sitting with her. I just – I wanted to get away for a moment, and ask you a question.”

Macey waited, curious.

“What are your career plans?”

It was the most boring and grown-up thing Jenny ever said and it surprised Macey into a laugh. The girl shook her head. “I don’t know. I told dad I want to be an heiress and he said he’s working on it. But I guess – maybe an architect. I like cathedrals. Or a fashion blogger or something.”

Jenny nodded. She meant to think of a sophisticated and mature way to have this conversation, but her head was fuzzy with fatigue. And bluntness was the best way to go with teenagers. “Have you considered superheroism?”

Macey blinked. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

With a note of panic, Macey said, “You know I’m not a hacker, right? My dad’s password is _literally_ my middle name and birthdate – I got into his contacts and that’s how I got your number.”

"Hackers are overrated," Jenny said. "You can always hire one if you really need to. Most of them will work for free if you know how to ask. I mean the actual job. Not all of it, not all at once." 

“Are you a superhero?”

“Yeah. I mean – I’m getting back into it. I was kinda on hiatus.”

“And you want me as a sidekick?”

Jenny grimaced. “Call it junior partner or something.”

“So what would I do?” 

“Read the Bible a _lot_. Make strategies. Probably do the action too – once I train you up.”

She expected enthusiasm or disbelief, not this careful questioning. If the kid wasn’t interested – well, Jenny was used to working alone.

“And you’ll tell me about the freaky shit that’s going on?” asked Macey. “Even the parts dad is keeping from me?”

“I will definitely tell you about the freaky shit. Even if you don’t want the job.”

Macey’s smile was fierce and bright. “Oh, I _definitely_ want the job.”

“School comes first,” Jenny said, so awkwardly that Macey laughed again. 

“Don’t worry,” she said, “I’ll take care of that stuff. Dad would kill me if he found out.”

“Abbie would kill me, too,” Jenny said. “She has this idea kids need to be kept _away_ from mortal danger.”

“So we can’t let them find out until they need saving again,” Macey nodded. 

They shook on it.

* * *

Abbie didn’t open her eyes right away. It was a habit from childhood – assessing her surroundings before she showed signs of being awake. The hum and bustle – and the smell – meant she was in a hospital, and suddenly Abbie remembered how she’d got there.

“Miss Mills?” Crane was sitting on a folding chair next to her bed. He looked like hell, and the sleeves and knees of his new suit were blood-stained. 

“What happened with the guy with the robes?” She didn’t dare sit up, but she turned towards him. 

“Your sister shot him between the eyes. It was very straightforward. Then we fought some of his followers. I’m sorry you had to miss it.”

“Well, maybe someone recorded it. There were a _lot_ of cameras there.”

“Our first public appearance was certainly exciting,” Crane said. “I think we might need to revise our statements.”

“Nope.” She waved the thought away. “We’re just a pair of ordinary police officers, randomly chosen as a blood sacrifice. We were surprised and shocked but got rescued by an undercover police consultant.”

“I doubt Miss Jenny would enjoy that designation.”

“I’ll talk her around to it.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

They trailed off. Abbie was aware they couldn’t really downplay what had happened. They’d defeated a Real Villain on real television, there was no way they could just fade away from public perception.

But that really didn’t seem to matter as much now. 

Crane was watching her carefully, with the same concentration he used when he was learning about new technology.

“What?” she asked.

“I could have lost you.” His voice was quiet and he folded his arms.

“Well, it’s a dangerous job. Whatever our job is.”

“I know.”

She reached out and took his hand, waited.

“I know it is our destiny to fight together,” he said, slowly. “But I cannot bear you die while I survive.”

“You know, he _was_ going to bleed you too. He just started with me.”

“I couldn’t – I am sorry,” he said, trying to slip away, but she gripped his hand. 

“You will always save me if you can,” she said. “And I’ll always save you. But we can’t always plan ahead. Which is why we have – allies. How did Jenny know we’re in trouble?” 

Crane shrugged, caressed her palm. 

“He ruined my dress,” she said, after a while.

“Mm?”

“I loved that dress. I'm glad he's dead.”

Crane looked over himself. “Shall we go on another shopping expedition?”

She nodded. “We’ll get some fancy things and go dancing. You know, once we can show up in public again.”

Crane nodded. He wasn’t okay, and neither was she, not really, but he didn’t let go of her hand again.


End file.
